


Stargazing

by yellowcottondresses



Category: Nashville (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Child Abandonment, Deleted Scenes, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowcottondresses/pseuds/yellowcottondresses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious noise in the night has Gunnar searching for answers in the sky. Missing moment from ABSOLUTES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazing

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Happy Birthday Emer!!! (whentherightonecomesalong) Hope you like your present!!!
> 
> This was originally an “outtake” from ABSOLUTES that was cut from the story, but I held onto it in case I ever decided to go back to that fic. So far I don’t have any plans for that, but hopefully these deleted scenes make for a good birthday gift =)
> 
> This should go without saying, but if you haven't read ABSOLUTES, you will have no idea what's going on here. So...you might want to read up on that before =)

A thump in the night awoke him.

Gunnar sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and trying to see in the shadowy darkness of the bedroom. Beside him, Scarlett was still asleep, snoring lightly. He was glad whatever the mysterious thump was hadn’t woken her; the kids were just getting over a stomach bug, and after being barfed on six times in three days, she deserved a good night’s sleep. 

He scanned the room, but couldn’t find any signs of the noise. Everything was where it should be, the door still cracked a half-inch with the light from the hallway spilling in – an entryway for little creatures that liked to crawl out of their own beds way past midnight and climb into this one, to get rid of the nightmares and tummy aches and whatever else made little girls wake up in the middle of the night. But he couldn’t hear any small feet running towards their bedroom, and when he poked his head into the hallway the girls weren’t waiting there to be picked up and comforted, carried back to bed or wanting to rest between him and Scarlett for the night.

The hallway was empty as well, the only sound the low rumble of the air conditioner. It was a constant hum, like hearing the waves of the ocean trapped in a seashell. The lights to the girls’ bedrooms were turned off, but still he poked his head inside, just to make sure nothing else was humming along in the night. 

Gracie’s door was half-open, the soft purple glow from her ballerina nightlight showing that his daughter was still asleep, her body pressed against the bed railings. Scarlett hadn’t wanted to put them up in the first place, but Gracie was the most mobile sleeper in the universe – one reason Gunnar was grateful she wasn’t trying to sleep with Mama and Daddy tonight. Not that he didn’t like being his daughter’s knight in shining armor after a bad dream, but he could do without waking up at three in the morning with little feet jammed in his face. And, more importantly, it saved them from having to comfort a scared toddler who had managed to fall out of bed for the third night in a row. 

For now, though Gracie was completely still on the mattress. Her purple bedspread was puddled on the bedroom floor; he picked it up and gently spread it over her while she dreamed away, clutching her stuffed rabbit with one hand while the other kept its thumb corked securely in her mouth. Then he closed the door behind him and tiptoed down the hall. 

Maia’s bedroom was across from Gracie’s, and when he peered inside, he saw that the bed was rumpled and empty, the closet light turned on and the door slightly ajar. He opened it a little farther, revealing a giant lump covered in a light blue blanket, singing to itself. 

He knelt down beside the giant lump, then reached up and pulled the blanket off, revealing a lion’s mane of tangled blonde curls and wide blue eyes staring at him. A silver iPod was in one hand, ear buds in each ear, and he could hear the faint thud of music pulsing through them. 

“You know it’s late, sweetheart,” he said. “Really, really late.”

Those big blue eyes just stared at him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Maia said, her voice low and husky. 

He peered at her face. She told him yesterday that she’d felt better and had gone a whole day without throwing up, but her skin still looked pale. “Does your stomach hurt again?”

“No,” she said. “My head hurts.”

He put his hand on the little girl’s forehead, feeling for signs of a fever. She didn’t feel warm, but he never could tell just by doing that; Scarlett always could. It seemed to Gunnar that mothers in general seemed to have that kind of sixth sense. 

“Do you still feel sick?”

Maia shook her head. “I can’t fall asleep. My head’s too busy.”

Gunnar sat down next to her, trying to scrunch himself into the little space. 

“Too busy?” he asked. “Why is it too busy?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. It just is. I’m thinking all the time.”

“About what?”

Another noncommittal shrug. “It feels like I have bugs in my brain.”

He tried not to smile. “That’s not fun.”

When Maia didn’t answer, he looked down at the iPod. “What are you listening to?”

She tilted the screen towards him, and his heart sank a little when he made out the picture on the tiny screen – it was the cover of Will’s album. The smirk on his face and the brim of his wide cowboy hat pulled down to half-hide his eyes, looking like he was ready to break a few hearts. 

“When is Dad going to be here?” she said. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “Is he coming home?”

 _Soon_ , Gunnar wanted to say, but he really had no idea, and he bit the word back so he wouldn’t get her hopes up only to let her down. Then he’d be no different than Will.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said, the only honest answer he could give.

Her brow furrowed. “Can I see him?”

“We can try. But he might be really busy.”

“But I want to see him,” she said, her chin jutting out stubbornly. It was an expression so purely _Will_ that under normal circumstances it would have made Gunnar smile, but now it made his heart break a little. 

“I know you do. But…”

Why couldn’t he just call Will? This was his daughter. He hadn’t seen her in months. What the hell was his problem?

Gunnar reached out and wrapped his arms around her, running a hand down her back.

“Tell you what,” he murmured into her ear. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll call your dad. And you can ask him to come home.”

Maia’s arms looped around his neck. “Will he say yes?”

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment, trying to keep his voice light. “That’s why we’ll have to ask him.”

“I want him to say yes,” she said into his shoulder blade. “Is he gonna?”

“I don’t know,” Gunnar repeated, in that same airy, comforting voice stripped of any disappointment or doubt. “So we’ll have to ask him. Tomorrow morning. Okay?”

Maia nodded. “When’s morning?”

“Not for a while, baby.” He stood up with Maia in his arms. “So why don’t you go back to bed for now.”

She gripped his neck tightly. “Will you wake me up when it’s morning?”

He tried setting her down on the bed, but she wouldn’t let go of him. “I will.”

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Promise?”

Gunnar took the iPod out of her fist and set it on her nightstand. He took one last look at the album cover before the screen turned black – Will’s face in miniature, grinning like he had a secret he couldn’t wait for you to know. 

“I promise,” he said. “For now, you go back to sleep. It’s way past everybody’s bedtime.” 

Maia frowned. “But I can’t sleep.”

Gunnar sighed. 

“Try closing your eyes, okay?” he murmured. He brushed the hair out of her face and put his hand on her forehead. “And you’ll be asleep before you know it.”

“But I can’t,” she said, her voice rising. He could see tears prickling her eyes in frustration. “My head’s too busy! I can’t stop thinking!”

There was a shuffle from down the hall. It could have just been the rumble of the A/C…or it could have been Gracie waking up. Dealing with two cranky little kids in the middle of the night was very much not on his agenda, so instead he cupped Maia’s chin and bent down to kiss her forehead. Then he clucked his tongue and ran his hands through Maia’s tangle of hair. 

“There,” he said. “I think I turned off the thoughts.” 

Maia considered this.

Gunnar put his hands on the side of her face and made her shake her head. “See? No more bugs in your brain.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but he could tell by the glassy look in her eyes that she was having trouble staying awake. 

“You think you can go to sleep now?” he asked. 

She pulled the covers up to her chin. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes were drifting shut. 

Gunnar lay down on top of the sheets and put his arm over her, trying not to move too much. This twin bed wasn’t exactly regular-person sized. 

“Just close your eyes,” he whispered, and when he peered at Maia’s face he could see she already had. She shifted restlessly beside him for a few minutes, but soon enough he could feel her breathing fall into the slow pattern of deep sleep.

He kept his arm around her, resting his head on the pillow, and whatever tiredness he’d felt moments ago was gone. He was wide awake.

The plastic stars on the ceiling just above his head made a wide spiral, their light dull and shapeless even in pitch darkness. He’d bought them at a dollar store one afternoon, a checkout line impulse buy, because Jason had put them on Gunnar’s ceiling when he was little and he thought Maia might like them. Instead, she cherished them beyond reason. It took Gunnar weeks to paste the stars on her ceiling because she kept changing her mind about where exactly she wanted them; she kept trying to create the perfect pattern to hang above her head at night, the last thing she saw before dreaming. When he finally hung them, Maia asked what their names were, and then named them herself when she didn’t like the ones he came up with. 

Her favorite – if you could have a favorite sliver of cheap plastic – was a star that had fallen off twice into the bedsheets, and Maia always cried until he managed to dig it out from under the covers. The last time it fell he resorted to taping all of the pieces to the ceiling with clear masking tape (and decided not to tell Scarlett, lest she get onto him about ruining the paint job). It worked – they hadn’t had a falling star since. 

Maia had stories for all her stars, and was asking for a telescope for her birthday. On warm nights she’d stand in the yard and watch them, spilled like sugar across the night. Once he sat out on the front porch with her, stargazing in the middle of summer, and tried to get Maia to pick out shapes in the blackness.

The look she gave him was filled with more disdain than he thought a six-year-old could ever manage.

“They’re not called _shapes_ , Gunnar,” she said, snorting with derision. “They’re _constellations_. They’re a really long way away.”

He arched his eyebrows. “So you don’t see the giant horse? It’s right there!”

She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to honor that with a response. 

He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. So serious.

“So how come I can see them and you can’t?”

Maia rolled her eyes. “That’s your problem.”

He laughed so hard Scarlett came rushing outside, thinking something was wrong. 

He and Scarlett had meant to take the kids to the Adventure Science Museum a long time ago…why hadn’t they? They should have gone. Maia would love the astronomy exhibits there. Even with touring and recording and writing and playdates and school carpools, they should have made the time for that. He and Scarlett made the promise when they adopted Maia, and when they decided they were ready to have a baby: _family comes first._

Which may have been easier said than done, but still. They needed to take the kids to the museum. As soon as it was morning, he and Scarlett would find the right day to go. 

After he was done trying to get through to Will.

It made his stomach hurt, thinking about it. Half the time Will didn’t pick up his phone, and any emails or texts went unanswered. They’d tried a few times to catch him through Nate, but Will resented Nate being used as a middleman, even when Gunnar argued it was the only semi-reliable way to get in touch with him.

He hadn’t seen Maia since the summer. He hadn’t even called. And it didn’t matter how many angry, frustrated text messages Gunnar sent him saying that Maia missed him, asked about him, needed him. The other end was always radio silence. 

Maia shifted in her sleep, her fist whacking him in the cheek. He inched slightly away from her, banging the back of his head on the wall her tiny bed was pushed up against. He made a noise and tried not to curse. This bed would be too small for a Munchkin. 

He knew there was every chance Will couldn’t be reached tomorrow, and Maia would be left disappointed and upset, spending the whole day stomping around the house in sulky silence. And Scarlett would be…less than thrilled, too. She and Will had gotten into it the last time he showed up, and he was gone a few hours after that. Though whether he bailed because he was angry at Scarlett or because that had been his plan all along was unclear. 

Either way, it had set his wife on edge, it made Maia cry for two days straight, and it made Gunnar send some very angry voicemails calling his best friend a few less-than-flattering names. He had no idea if they’d been listened to or not, but Gunnar had meant every word when he left them on Will’s voicemail. 

Scarlett would only tell him that trying to reach out would do more harm than good. They’d had some nice, quiet months. And in a few more, it would be the holidays, and Maia would be asking about him nonstop. 

_Is Daddy coming for Thanksgiving? Can I get Daddy a Christmas present? Is Daddy coming before Santa? Can Daddy be here for Santa? Did I get a present from Daddy? Is Daddy gonna be here? Is Daddy gonna be here? Is Daddy gonna be here?_

It was the most consistency Will had ever given his daughter – being a no-show for every Christmas. 

He sighed and tried to stretch out in the narrow little bed, staring up at the plastic sky. A shorted constellation. 

He’d stay here until morning. He literally hung the stars in the sky when she asked, stitching her night together exactly the way she wanted. And when they fell, he’d put them back together again.


End file.
